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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694798">it's a slough</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowncartardis/pseuds/clowncartardis'>clowncartardis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Treasure Hunt, hand holding, wetlands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:55:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowncartardis/pseuds/clowncartardis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor brings Yaz to a treasure hunt on a miserable wetland planet when she notices something strange about the clues. Can Yaz figure out the mystery? Why is the Doctor being so secretive?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sloshed Saturday</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's a slough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the wetland slough is pronounced "sloo" also HAPPY SLOSHED SATURDAY</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sure glad I wore my wellies!” the Doctor sings, shuffling in the sandy, shallow water. “Did I ever mention I sort-of half-invented them?”</p><p>“More’n a few times,” Yaz grits out, pulling her foot from a clump of reeds. “Honestly, you're getting worse than Graham.”</p><p>“S’what happens when you get older,” argues the Doctor, the edge of her voice catching in indignation. She swats at a low-hanging branch, sending a flurry of odd, oblong sticks crashing down around her. “Plus I’ve got <em>loads </em>of years on him. How old is he, again? D’you think we should send him another birthday card? You humans and your celebratory customs. Birthday cards! What <em>lovely </em>pieces of cardboard.” </p><p>“Millennia of experience and you’re still on about your wellies?” Yaz teases, clutching a protruding branch as she steps gingerly over a tangle of roots.</p><p>The Doctor whips around. “I’m not boring you, am I?”</p><p>Her fingers twitch at her sides, thrumming with a new energy Yaz hasn’t yet identified. It’s neither excitement, impatience, hunger, nor anger. </p><p>Maybe she’s nervous? No, she can’t be. The Doctor doesn’t do <em>nervous</em>. What’s she got to be nervous about?</p><p>Yaz sighs. The heat must be getting to her. She’s exhausted, she’s thirsty, and she’s got bug bites in places she didn’t know she could <em>get</em> bug bites. “Doctor, what are we doing in this swamp?”</p><p>“Oi! It’s not a swamp!” the Doctor chides. She rummages deep in her coat. The hem is navy blue from the water; the stain spreading like a wound. With a victorious cry, the Doctor brandishes what looks like an ice chip. She hands it to Yaz. “Can’t have you gettin’ dehydrated now, can we? This should help with the heat. And your mood.”</p><p>“Is it a rock?” Yaz asks, bristling at the implication anything is wrong with <em>her</em> mood. “What else do you keep in that pocket?”</p><p>The Doctor frowns. “It’s a portable hydration crystal from the planet Heliodra. Tuck it up behind your teeth, next to your cheek, good—but don’t bite it! Or let it stick to your tongue. You ever lick a lamppost? Nasty business. Don’t recommend it. Nearly took half my tongue off last time I tried. Helped me win that chili eating contest, though.”</p><p>Yaz snorts and sticks the crystal behind her teeth. Within seconds, her thirst is gone and her headache lifts.</p><p>“If we’re not in a swamp,” she says around the crystal, “where are we? What are we doing here?”</p><p>“This is the Great Wetland of Omicron Micro,” the Doctor explains with a flourish. “A whole planet of wetlands! May be the most biodiverse planet in the whole galaxy! They’ve got everything here: marshes, bogs, fens, even swamps. We’re standin’ on a big carr! Or maybe a mangrove forest? D’you think those trees are mangroves? They’ve got spindly roots. No—it’s a mangrove <em>slough</em>! Been a while since I brushed up on my wetland terminology. Back to your question—we’re looking for <em>treasure</em>.”</p><p>Yaz sighs. They’re going to be here for hours, aren’t they? The Doctor has that glint in her eye. </p><p>“What sort of treasure?”</p><p>“You’ll know it when you see it,” the Doctor hums. “Let’s go this way.” </p><p>She turns and stomps in a seemingly random direction, sending little silver fish and crabs scuttling away from her. Yaz hurries to keep up. </p><p>“Isn’t slough a fun word?” the Doctor says casually, arms swinging. “Sloo, sloo. Tastes funny in my mouth. Like bubblegum. I could go for some bubblegum. D’ya want to visit a bubblegum arcade, Yaz? I’ve got nearly enough tickets to earn us prizes.”</p><p>“Uh.” Yaz blinks. “Sure?”</p><p>“<em>Brilliant</em>.” </p><p>The Doctor reaches out as if to touch Yaz’s hand when Yaz spots something metallic caught in the branches of a tree. </p><p>“What’s that?” she asks, trudging over. She braces herself on the sturdier roots, tugging at the object, only to reveal—</p><p>“An Eiffel Tower paperweight?”</p><p>“Well, that’s odd,” the Doctor states. </p><p>Yaz holds the paperweight up to the light when she notices a simple compass has been welded to the bottom. She shows it to the Doctor, who shrugs.  </p><p>“Kipped over to Paris once or twice before,” the Doctor mentions as they begin to walk, brushing awkwardly against her. </p><p>“I remember,” Yaz says, pulling away when she brushes into her again. “With Noor, during World War II. That’s where she was stationed, yeah?”</p><p>“No, no,” the Doctor says in a rush. “I mean, yes, but no. Went to a museum, with a friend, in 2010.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Were a nice day,” the Doctor says wistfully. “We met Van Gogh.” </p><p>“Van Gogh was at a museum in 2010?” </p><p>“No,” the Doctor groans. “Well, yes, but no. I discovered a figure in one of his paintings, an evil one—had to travel back in time to sort it all out. Do you have a favourite artist, Yaz?”</p><p>On the next brush, the Doctor captures Yaz’s hand. She slots their fingers together, palm-to-palm. Yaz shudders. Her hand is cold. </p><p>“Uh,” Yaz gulps. “Can’t say I do, really.”</p><p>“Do you like dances?” The Doctor squeezes their joined hands, sending livewire electricity up Yaz’s arm.</p><p>“Are you offering to take me to one?” Yaz’s laugh is too loud. “I can’t picture you sitting through a whole ballet. Don’t those go on for <em>hours</em>?”</p><p>The Doctor shakes their hands apart. “Reckon you’re right. Were a stupid idea.”</p><p>Guilt punches a neat hole through Yaz’s chest. <em>She were just trying to be nice.</em></p><p>When Yaz looks up, she spies a small blue box between two branches. </p><p>“Doctor,” Yaz calls. “Found something!”</p><p>The Doctor swivels, nearly tripping over a curved root. “What is it?” </p><p>“Don’t know yet,” Yaz responds, crouching to pull out the box. The Doctor sonics it open to reveal a tin full of tiny pastries and other delicate foods. It smells divine. Yaz’s mouth waters—she’s <em>starving</em>.</p><p>“Snacks!” the Doctor cries, reaching into the box for a puffed crisp with a curled prawn. She pops it into her mouth and begins to crunch. </p><p>“Maybe we shouldn’t eat food we found in a swamp?” Yaz suggests.</p><p>“It’s a slough,” the Doctor corrects with her mouth full.</p><p>“Maybe we shouldn’t eat food we’ve found in a slough?” </p><p>“But it’s tiny prawns and you love tiny prawns!” the Doctor argues. </p><p>“<em>You</em> love tiny prawns,” Yaz reminds her. </p><p>“Oh yeah,” the Doctor deflates. “You love bruschetta, though, right? Look, Yaz, there’s bruschetta!”</p><p>“I’m not eating that!” Yaz cries. “How long has this <em>been here</em>?”</p><p>The Doctor scowls. </p><p>“The box is cool,” she mumbles. “Can’t have been here long.”</p><p>“Why are you trusting food inside a strange box?” Yaz asks, handing it to her. “Honestly, what’s gotten into you today?”</p><p>“Let’s keep going,” the Doctor says, jamming another prawn into her mouth. She’s pouting now, but Yaz is too sticky and miserable to care. </p><p>They walk for another fifteen minutes when Yaz spots something in the trees above them.</p><p>“Are those shoes?” she asks. “Are those <em>my</em> shoes?”</p><p>“What?” the Doctor says.</p><p>“Up there, in the trees.” Yaz points. “My shoes.”</p><p>The Doctor squints. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I can see that.”</p><p>“No, seriously,” Yaz nearly yells. “The ones I thought I lost last week, but when I told you I sounded mad because what nutter only loses left shoes?”</p><p>The Doctor bites her lower lip. “D’ya need help getting them down?”</p><p>“<em>You</em> can fetch them,” states Yaz. “And then you can tell me what the <em>bloody hell </em>is going on.”</p><p>The Doctor hands the box and the paperweight to Yaz and throws herself at the tree, pulling herself up like an ungainly cat.</p><p>“Can’t you just sonic it?” Yaz asks as the Doctor nearly slips, her muddy wellies making it impossible for her to find purchase on the tree. </p><p>“Sonic don’t work on wood,” the Doctor grits out, squirming her way into the treetop and worming her way across the branches, sending furious birds scattering over the canopy. </p><p>“It <em>doesn’t work on wood</em>?” Yaz asks. “Seems like a massive design flaw.”</p><p>“It’s quite useful otherwise!” the Doctor defends, nearly falling in her indignation. She clings to the tree like a koala. “Do me a favour and stand under the shoes?”</p><p>“Wait, no, I’m holding—”</p><p>The shoes fall and Yaz manages to catch them. The Doctor hops down from the tree, sending an arc of water that splashes up against Yaz’s legs.</p><p>“What’s this been about?” Yaz demands. She rests everything against a tangle of roots and snaps her hands to her hips. “Seriously, Doctor. I’m hot and mardy and my feet hurt and I don’t appreciate being lied to—”</p><p>Unable to meet Yaz’s eye, the Doctor pulls out a slim, rectangular box. She opens it and hands it to Yaz. </p><p>Inside are two bow ties: one navy blue with a smattering of yellow stardust, and another a glossy black that glows rainbow when the light hits it.</p><p>“There’s a dance I’d really like to go to,” the Doctor explains, summoning the courage to look into Yaz’s eyes. She gains confidence as she speaks, energy thrumming through her like a dial being turned up. “With you. On Levalia. One of the most legendary dances in all of space and time. Never had a chance to go before now. I’d really like you to be my date. I mean. Would you like to be my date? I’d be honoured if you’d be my date. Yasmin Khan, will you be my date? To the dance. On Levalia. Will you be my date to the dance on Levalia?” </p><p>The Doctor pauses for a breath, looking anxiously up at Yaz. The fidgeting is back and <em>oh—</em>she was nervous, then. Because of <em>Yaz</em>. </p><p>Warmth blooms in Yaz’s chest, like a gentle flower opening to the sun. </p><p>“Yes,” Yaz laughs. “Yes, of course.”</p><p>“That’s ace,” the Doctor breathes. “Oh, I’m absolutely delighted, I’ve been wanting to ask you for ages, and—”</p><p>“What was all this for?” Yaz interrupts her. “You could’ve just asked. Didn’t need to drive me batty through a swa—a <em>slough</em> first.”</p><p>The Doctor fidgets “Isn’t this how you lot ask each other to dances?”</p><p>Yaz’s trainer falls into the water with a splash. </p><p>“Is this a <em>prom proposal</em>?”</p><p>Yaz doesn’t know whether she wants to kiss her or shove her. </p><p>The Doctor crunches her nose. “I don’t think so?”</p><p>Yaz snaps the box closed and pulls the Doctor close by the lapels. “How long have you been thinking about this? Tell the truth.”</p><p>“A while…” The Doctor squirms. “Gets a bit fuzzy, to be quite honest. I got the invitation a while back and then I had to think of the right way to ask you. Can’t have you go around thinkin' it were just off the top of my head, ‘cos it’s been on my mind for a long time.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.” She’s so sweet, sometimes, when she wants to be. When she’s not dragging Yaz through a bloody <em>swamp</em>. Yaz cups her face. “Tell me the meaning behind everything?”</p><p>The Doctor turns red and presses into Yaz’s hand. “France rhymes with dance. The best parties have canapés. Two left shoes ‘cos Ryan says I’ve got two left feet. And bow ties, ‘cos bow ties are cool, and I think you’ll look proper fit in one.”</p><p>“You're something else, you know that?” Yaz says, reaching forward to kiss her. Her lips are salty from the brackish air around them. “You can pick me up at seven.”</p><p>She turns and walks off, hopefully in the direction of the TARDIS. </p><p>“But we’ll be in the Time Vortex!” the Doctor calls after her, confused. “Seven doesn’t exist in the Time Vortex! I mean, it does, conceptually, as a number, but it’s not like I can just—”</p><p>“If you keep that up you won’t be invited to after-prom,” Yaz calls over her shoulder. “A lot of <em>fun</em> things happen at after-prom, <em>Doctor</em>.”</p><p>There’s a splashing sound as the Doctor rushes to keep up with her. “I’ll pick you up at seven!” </p>
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